


Northern Winds

by puffintalia



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M, Mild Blood, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28250880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puffintalia/pseuds/puffintalia
Summary: Jia Long - Leon, he insists - is in an interesting situation, to say the least. As the third prince of Anyian, he is constantly followed and shadowed by his supposed duty to his kingdom, but as the third son and fourth child, he knows his life as a prince has no real meaning. Lonely and disillusioned, he longs to finally meet someone his own age.Emil is a mystery. Barely older than Leon, he seems to bear the weight of the world on his shoulders. His life is one of constant shifting treachery, danced on a knife's edge.Their meeting is an accident. A plan gone wrong. And yet, for the first time, Leon sees a life outside the palace walls.
Relationships: Hong Kong/Iceland (Hetalia)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 13
Collections: Nordictalia Secret Santa





	Northern Winds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LicoricePrince](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LicoricePrince/gifts).



> Merry Christmas, Roppi! I hope you like this fic. I know you had more interesting prompts and I did try Ameice, but given the fandom situation when I started this... All my ideas seemed a bit controversial, let's leave it at that. Still, I honestly think I prefer what I came up with instead and I hope you enjoy this AU as much as I do.
> 
> PS. I'm sorry Mitch thought we were the same person

It was strange, Leon thought. He’d lived here all his life and yet there was so much of the palace he’d never seen.

As the third prince, it wasn't like he’d never had the chance to explore. The bodyguards that followed his brothers’ every moves were content to leave him be, for the most part. But he never got far through the maze of corridors before some servant or guard or, worse,  _ sibling _ managed to turn him around and send him back off to his chambers. 

The servants now were quiet, more so than usual. Even at this late hour, there would always be a guard or two watching in the corners and in the courtyards, a candle-lighter attending his flame, an imperial scribe working well into the night on the second prince’s most recent commission. With his older brothers off on a hunting trip, the corners were empty. No need to guard this wing of the palace when its most precious treasure - oh, how Leon hated the phrase they always used - wasn't there. Only two guards stood on the outer walls overlooking this pavilion.

He wouldn’t get turned back tonight. Grinning to himself, Leon ducked across the courtyard, the cobblestones smooth against his bare feet as he held his robes and shoes up and splashed through the fountain, laughing at the chill of the water. They used to play here, once upon a time. Back when Yao cared about anything other than hunting and politics, before Jia Lin decided that studying and poetry was more important than games and tricks. Xiao Chun still humoured him and his childish antics, but even she had started to brush him off for long trips to find a “perfect suitor”. 

Maybe it just meant it was time for Leon to step up to his duties as a prince. Yao was a fearsome general, one of the best commanders Anyian had ever had. His hunting and fighting skills were the stuff of legends - rumour had it, he’d never lost a fight in his life. Leon didn’t doubt it. Jia Lin, on the other hand, was a brilliant tactician. Though he was more unwilling to use force than Yao, his strategic genius had won them many a campaign against hostile neighbours. Even Xiao Chun, though she would never inherit the throne, was a master diplomat, winning them powerful allies across the continent.

It made Leon wonder what was left for him.

Shaking the water from his legs, Leon pulled his shoes back on and crept toward the far corridor. He’d never made it further than Yao’s courtyard before. Here, the grounds opened up into intricate gardens, stretching between the great stone walls that surrounded the palace. The borders of his world, with only servants for company. Never anyone his own age, save siblings that were too busy to care. As the third prince, he was easily forgotten, barely important when his brothers would never leave the throne to him. The empty halls of the palace were a boring, lonely world.

He shook the feeling off and carried on along the corridor. There was a tunnel here, according to the map he’d found in the library. It was old and dusty and looked like not even Jia Lin had found it yet in all his searches of the library, which was enough to draw Leon in. From what he could make out of the notes on the next page, it was an old servants’ entrance, but from what he’d seen of the coming and goings of the current staff - which was far, far too much, not that anyone cared - it had long fallen into disuse. With any luck, it could take him to the city outside the walls. Just down one last staircase…

The room below the stairs was pitch dark, the pale moonlight not reaching the cellar door. Feeling his heart begin to pound, Leon lit his lantern and set it on the floor. He pulled out the page he’d ripped from the book. Somewhere in the far left corner... As he walked, a floorboard creaked behind the wall. Probably just the old wood settling into place. That must be it, then. Running his hand along the wall, he searched for the latch that would -

Before he could reach it, the door swung open from the inside and Leon found himself looking up into two pale violet eyes.

  
  
  


The man - boy - behind the door couldn’t have been much older than himself, his hood casting a dark shadow over his face. His hand gripped a serrated dagger, which Leon finally realised was pointed right at his throat.

He took a step back, and the strange boy took a step toward him, forcing him back until he was pressed against the storage room’s wall. Violet eyes searched his frozen face and the dagger was lowered, the boy shaking his head as he turned away.

“I’d stay away from the tunnel if I were you.”

Leon clenched his fists, but he knew he couldn’t take him. If Yao or Jia Lin had been there, they would have disarmed him in seconds. “Who are you to tell me what to do?”

The boy grinned softly. His eyes flicked around the darkened room. “Someone who knows a hell of a lot more about the outside world than you do.” As Leon glared at him, he walked back over to the door, peering into the tunnel. “You’re lucky they sent me ahead. The others wouldn’t be so caring.”

“Is that a threat?”

“More a warning.” With the way he scanned the room, it looked like he was trying to figure out the value of every old vase and tapestry that lined the walls. A thief, then. Leon eyed the knife. No doubt he’d slit his throat the second he made a shout.

He was pathetic. As a prince of Anyian, he should be able to stop any threat in its tracks.  _ Ha. _ Even Xiao Chun could probably hold her own better than him.

But this was the first person his own age he'd ever met. It was a shame he was on such a different path. 

Shaking the thought off, Leon scowled. “Give me one good reason not to tell the guards this second.”

The boy paused, his brow furrowed. “You tell the guards and you won’t live to see the sunrise.” The blade glistened as if to prove his point. 

“And what if I keep quiet? I’ve seen your face. What’s stopping me from turning you in later?”

“Nothing,” he admitted. “But you’re not making the best case for not-dying.” 

That was a good point. The boy fell silent, waiting for an answer. He was staring right into Leon’s face, like he was trying to see into his soul. Reaching out, he brushed a stray hair from his forehead. It felt almost pitying. “Why don’t I make you a deal?”

“What sort of deal?” Princes didn't deal with thieves, he knew that much. But, then again, Leon hardly had a choice. 

The boy looked up at the stairway again. "You keep your nose out of our business and promise not to make a sound, and I'll make sure that no one leaves even a single mark on you." 

"And if I don't?" 

"I wouldn't put it past them to kill you on sight." 

It could all be a bluff. Maybe the boy was acting alone and there were no secret friends coming to hurt him. But when the jagged dagger edge glinted in the lantern light, Leon knew it wasn't a risk he could take 

"What about my sister?" he asked. 

"What about her?" the boy echoed. His eyes bore into him still.

"Will they hurt her?" 

He shrugged. "Not if you keep her out of the way." 

So she would be safe. The thought of surrendering to a thief - to a  _ criminal _ \- was repulsive, but the gods would understand. It was for his sister, he argued. Not because of his own cowardice. Certainly not. 

Leon bowed his head, already ashamed before the word even left his mouth. "Fine." 

A smile quirked on the boy's lips. "You're smarter than I thought, Jia Long. Maybe not all hope is lost for this empire." Spitting into his hand, he offered it out to Leon - an old Urutgardian custom to signify the sealing of a promise. For all his lessons on cultural traditions, it wasn’t any less uncomfortable.

"How do you know who I am?" 

“That doesn’t look like a servant’s uniform to me.” The boy offered his hand again. “Do we have a deal or not? Not to rush you, but the others will be here any moment and I’m sure you’d rather not meet them.”

Leon nodded and shook it, trying not to think of what he’d just done. “There go my plans for getting the hell out of here.”

“One day, prince, I promise.” He smiled. “Now unless you want that to be through kidnapping, I’d recommend you go, take your sister and hide.”

\---

Footsteps on the roof. Synchronised with the sweep of the beacon light. Deafening in the crushing silence. 

The boy's friends. It must be. 

Were they really as awful as he said? Or was it some genius ploy to lure him away from the cellar, to stop him questioning? Surely it'd do them more good to kidnap them than kill them. 

Then again, not much value in a Third Prince. The government wouldn't pay the ransom. 

They might not even be there for the money. Even the vases in that cellar alone were worth a few hundred thousand circlets, yet the boy hadn't taken a single thing. 

Leon shivered. The footsteps on the roof sounded heavier now, more frequent, like there was a whole group crowded in one place. Strange. The crown jewels were kept next to the throne room on the other side of the palace, not… 

The war rooms. These weren't just thieves. They were  _ rebels _ . 

He froze in the middle of the hallway. Whoever these men were, they were far, far more dangerous than he could have assumed. The fact that the boy in the cellar hadn't killed him on sight was close to a miracle. 

Footsteps now thudded on the marble floors. Closer, closer, closer. Leon crept along the wall, struggling to keep his breathing shallow. They were close enough that, if he strained, he could almost make out what they were saying. 

Urutgardian rebels. The last thing he expected in the imperial palace. For all he knew, the northern territories were calm and content - what need did they have for rebellion? 

The plans in the war rooms were worth more than his life, he knew that, but trying to save them would get him killed anyway. He crouched behind the corner, listening for footsteps. Die a hero by rebel hands or be exiled by his family for letting them steal the plans so easily? The boy had promised no harm would come to him, but intervening in their operation was no different to calling the guards. Riskier, even.

Either way, it was his last night as a prince of Anyian. Leon had to stifle his laughter. He’d escaped the palace after all, then. Just as a disgrace, not a runaway. If he went with the rebels now, would they look after him? That boy from the cellar would, he was sure of it. Something in those violet eyes felt… warm and reassuring. Maybe his worst nightmare would be his saviour.

He could see them now, the white-blond hair of his cellar boy almost glowing in the faint candlelight. Shadows danced on the far wall, each one towering over the last. Five, then. Each of them was armed to the teeth, swords and daggers strapped to every available surface. Leon shivered. Best not to cross their path. Even if they'd made their oath. 

Two more corridors before he was back to his rooms in the west tower. One more corridor before the war rooms. He could hear his breath shake in and out. Safety was within his reach.  _ Just stay quiet, stay quiet…  _

The man in the front drew his blade, the harsh metallic scrape echoing off the walls. The halls were silent. Leon held his breath, waiting for them to move on.  _ Come on, come on, come on.  _ He crept forward. Just a few steps further and-

"Jia Long?" 

Oh,  _ shit.  _

The sound carried in the still air. In front of him, the rebels stiffened. Xiao Chun stood in the archway, her lantern crashing to the floor. Violet eyes could only catch his for a moment before everything happened at once. 

Glass shattering at his feet. A flash as sharp silver sliced toward his face. A scream. A shout. A grunt. This was it. This was him done for. 

Time froze as the sword swung toward him. The scream. The guards would be here any second. 

He'd broken his promise. 

Leon screwed his eyes shut, waiting for the blade to hit his neck. 

_ "Emil!"  _

Eyes shot open, and there he was. The boy from the cellar.  _ Emil.  _

Hot blood splashed his cheek. The sword clattered against the marble. 

Leon could feel his heartbeat in his throat, the blood sliding down his face. Xiao Chun stumbled back. Disappeared the way she’d come from. The boy - Emil - stood less than a metre in front of him, his sword arm outstretched. Pointing at his own teammate. 

His own teammate, crouched on the floor, a deep gash running across his face and shoulder. 

"Emil," Leon said, not quite believing the scene in front of him. The name sounded unfamiliar on his tongue: foreign, strange, but what wasn't? He took a step back as the man on the ground glared up at him. 

“Emil.” One of the other men stepped forward, his long hair held back with a cross pin, his lilting accent and sharp features a mirror of Emil's. A brother, perhaps, but Leon didn't know Urutgardian features well. Whoever he was, the way he was clinging to that dagger didn't make him want to question it. "What in Svani's name are you doing?" 

His voice was a whisper, but it carried a tense, angry panic like nothing he'd heard before. If Emil didn't stand his ground-

"Betraying us." The man on the ground spat out a mouthful of blood. "We should have known. All that talk about 'not harming innocents'. He's been in cahoots with them this whole time." 

Gritting his teeth, Emil stepped closer in front of them. "They have done nothing to hurt you." 

"They've done everything to hurt us." Another voice, from the back of the group. 

"Or have you forgotten about Matthias." 

Emil’s fingers twitched on the hilt of his dagger. "Don’t preach to me about Matthias." He had a face like thunder, ready to strike any of them down at a moment's notice. It finally sunk in just how lucky Leon had been. “I know what happened to him better than any of you.”

A low chuckle from the man on the ground. He looked up, his smile crooked. “Then you'll know what we do to the traitors that support them.” Wiping his face on his sleeve, he dragged himself up, reaching for his sword with a scarlet-stained hand.

Everything went stagnant, all of Leon's focus honing in on the rebel's movement. Emil tensed in front of him. He couldn't even bring himself to try and run- all he could do was stand paralyzed in fear. This was it. He was a dead man.

The night air was shattered by the bellow of a horn, and suddenly Leon was jolted alive again.

Emil swung round, his eyes wide. “The guards. You-”

“They must’ve heard my sister.” Leon scrambled back as the men whipped into a blur of frenzied motion. Thunderous crashes rang through his head, everything happening at once. “I-” The man with the cross clip pulled the hood back over Emil’s face and yanked him by the arm, while others ran from the war rooms, the great wooden doors slamming shut. All Leon saw was a glimpse of silver before everything went black.

\---

Throbbing. In his side. Pain. Painful. Ow, ow, ow, ow. Fingers came back covered in dried blood. It was almost powder-like. Crumbly. Not yet solidified, but far past any sort of moisture. That… wasn’t how blood should be.

It probably shouldn’t’ve been on the outside, either.

Leon sat up, his vision blurring. Light. Too light. Where was the dark of night? The pale moonlight? The sun was blinding, burning. Summer heat. He shivered. His hands were covered in dried blood.

Where? Where was the blood? Oh, there, on his chest. Coming out of the - oh, okay. Stab wound. He’d been stabbed. Okay. By… he didn’t know. Emil’s friend. 

Were they still friends? Emil and the stabber, that was. Not Emil and him. It wasn’t like they’d ever see each other again. Emil had put his life on the line for him, a total stranger. Well, not total, but that made it even weirder. The prince of the country he hated. Well, only third prince. But still -

Leon collapsed back onto the sheets, waiting for his head to settle. Delirious would be an understatement.

He must’ve laid there for another ten minutes before he heard footsteps approaching down the corridor. Pale pink silk swished into view, the smell of congee wafting through the air. Xiao Chun sat down beside him. 

“How are you doing?”

Leon blinked twice as her face came into focus. “What happened?”

She sighed. “I think you know more than I do.”

“Hn,” Leon replied. He tried to roll over, but searing pain shot through his chest, his vision flashing white. “There were… people. In the palace.”

“Did you see any of their faces?”

Leon hesitated. The man on the floor’s face was too bloody to make out any features for certain, given the poor light, and the others were veiled in shadow. Apart from Emil. It would be so easy to turn him in. He could even give a name.

But was that really a fair exchange for saving his life? No, Leon decided. Despite his crimes, Emil didn’t deserve that. How would anyone know he wasn’t telling the full truth?

“No,” he lied. He would take the secret to his grave. Even if he had turned him in, anyway, Emil could have easily turned it back on him. Better safe than sorry.

Something about the boy stuck in Leon’s mind as Xiao Chun spooned the food into his mouth. Those piercing violet eyes that wouldn’t vanish when he closed his eyes… Emil had been ready to die for him, even though he’d broken the promise by letting Xiao Chun run. He’d let his own allies turn against him for the sake of the enemy, who he’d only just met. Leon knew for sure that if he’d met that leader in the cellar, he would not have made it up the stairs alive. So why did Emil defend him? Why did he let Leon negotiate?

“The others will be back soon,” Xiao Chun said, some of the congee spilling over the side of the bowl.

“The others?” The rebels? He’d barely survived the first encounter, how could he-

“Yao and Jia Lin.” She wiped the rice from the sheets, leaving a dark patch on the silk. “You know, our brothers? The crown princes?” 

“Oh,” said Leon. “Sorry. It’s been a weird night.”

Xiao Chun hummed. “You did get stabbed in the chest, right? Not the brain?”

“Hey!”

“Just had to check.” Grinning, she ruffled Leon’s hair. “You should rest. At least until they get back.”

“I’ll try. As long as I’m not disturbed by annoying sisters.”

“Love you too.” Wiping his chin, Xiao Chun disappeared off the way she’d come, leaving him alone, staring at the ceiling.

Bright lights faded into a feverish, uncomfortable sleep. 


End file.
